Rival Code
by The Gray Maze
Summary: Mack, suspecting Conner of being the Cornstalker after another run-in with the thief, calls her father and asks for advice. Implied future Conner/Mackenzie. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Might turn into a two-shot, which is why it's labeled as "in-progress" right now. Anyway, this popped into mind at some point; I was replaying the game and wondering about Mack's father, and this was born.

"Cromwell?"

"Yes milday?"

Mackenzie's face took on an odd expression as she regarded her butler and guardian. "Can you get a hold of my dad?"

Cromwell blinked and considered it. The young lady's father was often in the most unpredicable places, enjoying his (very) early retirement to the fullest while his daughter learned to manage in his old business. At this moment, however, he had an inkling as to where the man had went. His last post card had featured a charming beach across the world, and in that country the next natural place to visit would be... yes, he would almost certainly be there. Also...

"The term 'dad' is inappropriate for a budding lady such as yourself." His moustache wiggled in a minor display of agitation as he chided her.

The flat look she shot him went unheeded as he turned to pluck the phone from its cradle. He flipped through the phone book at an inhumanely fast speed, eyes tracking every business until, abruptly, he stopped and began dialing. Mackenzie stewed in what she felt to be an awkward silence as Cromwell held the phone to his ear and waited.

_I hope dad... father... picks up._

Her thoughts were moving in circles at lightning speed and vaguely she heard Cromwell speaking.

"Yes, I am looking for Maverick..."

She sighed and endured the wait, considering what she was going to ask him. Her father had been a detective for seventeen years before getting bored and deciding to run around the world. He had experienced many things and perhaps some of what he witnessed could help her with her current predicament.

_This is trouble... what should I do about this?_

She was startled from her brooding when the gleaming black phone was presented to her.

"Your father, milady." Cromwell announced imperiously as he sketched a short bow.

"Thanks." She told him.

She carefully placed the phone to her ear, instantly picking up on a dull background chatter and the very faint sound of an ocean roaring. There was a lot of laughter, her father's mostly.

"Father?" She prompted.

"Ha-oh! Mack! _Mack_, isn't 'father' a bit too formal for your old man?"

Her lips quirked in a small smile. "I'd call you dad, but Cromwell's nearby." She informed him.

"Pfft." She could picture him waving one hand dismissively. "What's going on, sweetheart? That old Cromwell said you looked a little troubled over something. Is my old job too much for you?"

"No... no, being a detective is fun. I just wish everyone would stop calling me the _Touch_ _Detective_."

"It's cute though. And it suits you well-_no, Martha, I'm fine, thank you_-why don't you like it?"

"It was an _accident_." She stressed.

_Who's Martha anyway? Waitress? Could be._

His laughter rang loudly on the other end of the phone. "If you say so, dear. Now, you can't sidetrack me for long. What's the matter? I can hear it in your voice."

Mackenzie sighed and thought of what to say. She had wanted to speak to him and get his opinion, true, but now that she had him listening she was faltering in her decision. But she had decided earlier and he was on the phone now. She nodded to herself and, determination restored, began.

"What would you do if... you thought you knew the identity of a famous criminal but... liked-" and hear she paused to tell her heart to stop racing wildly in her chest, "liked their real identity." Mackenzie fought the heat in her face and added: "As a person."

_Please don't take that the wrong way._

There was a bit of _hmmm_-ing on the other end before he responded. "That depends on the criminal. What kind of relationship do you have with this person. As a criminal... and as a _person_." Mackenzie could almost see the teasing smile curling on her father's mouth.

"... he calls me his rival?" She offered. "And... um... he's a nice person."

"_He?_"

_Why does he sound so pleased?_

"Oh, Mack. If he's your _rival_ and you _like him_, you obviously must keep his secret to the best of your ability!"

_What?_

"Well, if he's _good_ anyway. If he's not a very good rival and gets himself caught on his own, that's on him."

"So I... don't turn him in or, say, confront him or something?"

"Oh no! If he was a common criminal, of course your duty would be to make them face the law. Rivals are different." He said this all so certainly that Mackenzie felt small and uninformed.

"I'm... not sure what you mean." She admitted.

"Detectives are incomplete without a rival." He told her. "The job is so _boring_ without one. Why do you think I'm retired?"

_I thought it was because mom, mother, was found out to be a criminal._

She didn't say it out loud.

"The truth is, Mack, that once I had a rival. A fine one. She was called Catnip." He sounded whimsical as he recounted this and Mackenzie couldn't bring herself to question the unfortunate code name.

"What happened to her?" She asked instead.

"She married me!" He answered cheerfully. Abruptly.

"Wh-What?"

"Your mother was my rival." He sighed. "It was so much fun, chasing her around as she went along with her criminal ways. I couldn't stand the thought of turning her in once I'd found out who she really was, the beautiful librarian. So I didn't. Instead, I asked her on a date and we married a year later."

_There's something wrong with this story._

"It became a huge game, an enormous joke on all of law enforcement, once we were married. Only, she got caught a few years after you were born. Now she'll in maximum security for the next few years. I hope they take it easy on her. Retirement just isn't all that great without someone to share it with."

"Then why didn't you take me and Cromwell with you?" Mackenzie asked dryly.

He sounded surprised at the question. "Oh, but then who'd watch the office and keep my business running? Mack, my dear girl, you'll go far. Until you retire. But you'll have your own child by then, won't you?

"I'm twelve." She reminded him.

"And if you go at least as long as I did, you'll be twenty-nine at retirement." He countered. "How old is this rival of yours anyway? I just want to make sure this is appropriate, you understand."

"He's... eighteen, I think." Mackenzie answered, almost absently.

Her brain felt just about burned out from this conversation. From the sudden relevations.

"Seven years." Her father murmured. "Yes, that's not _too_ bad. As long as nothing happens until you're a bit older, Mack, dear."

Unseen by him, she flushed scarlet and shook her head and near shouted "_Dad!_" despite Cromwell's presence just behind one of the doors to her right.

"Oh, don't be so awkward." He admonished. "It'll all be fine." There was a pause and- "Oh! Look at the time. Mack, I'll need to get going. Discounts at the bar tonight, you understand. Well, you will when you're older."

"Yes, dad." She sighed.

"Love you, and I'll be home for the holiday. Introduce me to your rival, dear."

"Of course, love you too." She trailed off, almost vacantly returning the phone to its cradle.

_Click_

Now. She supposed there was an antique shop to visit.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Bit shorter, but I didn't want to force anything. This is complete and the next story will be Chloe and Noel. Heh.

Conner saw his last customer of the day out the door with his purchase, pleasant smile frozen onto his handsome face. It remained even after the door had clicked shut, as he grasped his pink duster and began a cursory clean up of his quaint little shop. It wasn't long into his task that the bell above his door jingled merrily and he realized he had forgotten to put up the sign announcing that he was closed.

"I'm sorry, but right now I'm afraid I'm closed." He announced, turning.

"I know."

He blinked upon noticing who exactly was standing in the doorway. "Ah, it's the little detective! What can I do for you?" He returned the duster to the tie on his arm with a flourish.

Mackenzie smiled at him, though the expression was far more nervous than he had ever seen her. She looked to be struggling over what to say.

"The usual?" She seemed to settle on, though it was apparantly, by her grimance, not what she wanted precisely.

"Another case?" He prompted.

It was closing time, and normally he entertained no one after closing, but for her, and for her amusing but impressive adventures that had thus far been entertaining to watch or be a part of, he couldn't find it within him to mind. Just this once. But her next words threw him for a loop.

"That depends on you." Her anxiety was still present, but she peered at him keenly. "Am I going to have another case soon?" She took a hesitant step forward, a blush on her face.

A spike of apprehension shot through his chest and he did his best to ignore it. "I'm not sure how I would know such a thing." He told her.

The Touch Detective shifted from one foot to another and then sighed. "I talked to my dad today." She said.

Conner tilted his head, not hiding his confusion.

Mackenzie's brow furrowed. "It was a weird conversation, but I think I got what he was trying to say." Her large eyes zeroed in on him again. "He was a detective before, so I trust that he knows what he's talking about."

Conner felt his muscles tense and his heart pick up the pace as he wondered. _Did she figure it out?_ He had mastered packing quickly, and she didn't appear to have backup. He could knock her out and leave her on the couch... _Gently_, he told himself, _she's still a child._

"Um... he said that rivals were important. That he and my mother... were like that. Before she was imprisoned."

This gave him pause. "What was she imprisoned for?" He couldn't help but ask.

Mackenzie's mouth twisted into a bemused frown. "She was a thief." She said simply, shuffling again.

"Really..." He honestly didn't know what to say to that.

"But I guess... what he was implying was that rivals were important to a detective's growth. He said that we're incomplete without one." This time the look she shot him was sharp and demanding, lacking the typical insecurity that came with her obvious crush on him. "So be careful!"

He took a step back in surprise. "What?"

Her face scrunched up and put her emotions on display, something he always found endearing about her, but at the same time always mentally scolded her for. There were people who would not hesitate to take advantage of a young girl with her thoughts in the shop window, unobscured and advertised. Nonetheless he watched her eyes flash with doubt, apprehension, determination, and then a sudden _sureness_ that made him, inexplicably, feel proud of her.

"When I saw him again." She began. "I _knew_, somehow, but doubted it and didn't say anything to Daria. Or anyone. But when I got home I thought about it. The voice was familiar the whole time. And he always goes after antiques. And sometimes you even almost said it outright to my face and I never realized it!"

Mackenzie was very nearly pouting, but her upbringing must have let her control at least that much. Conner smiled at her expression and received a light glare in return. He chuckled and backed up a step to lean against his counter.

"So what is your deduction, Touch Detectice?" He prompted.

"You're the Cornstalker." She said simply. Surely.

"What will you do?"

"I'm not going to turn you in." She decided. "But I hope you don't end up like my mother."

"I'm very good at disguise, you know?" He responded gently.

She scowled at him. "Not in hindsight. I know now that you were the Mayor. I knew there was something off then, but..."

He shrugged. "You didn't know what to look for then. I see. I will work harder on that element, detective." His lips curved further upward. "Since rivals are meant for self-improvement." He stated, amusement coloring his voice.

Mackenzie sighed in relief. "Right."

"And if I may suggest..." He trailed off and waited for her look of interest before continuing. "Please learn to shield your thoughts more adequetely, lest someone use that against you." His tone turned teasing. "I don't think it would be quite right if the thief went and rescued the detective." His smile turned sharp. "Usually it's the detective that pulls strings and sabotages to protect the criminal, in such relationships."

Mackenzie looked vaguely uncomfortable. "I'm aiding and abetting." She shook her head. "But if my dad did it..."

She jerked in surprise as Conner laid his hand on her head, right atop her hat. "Family traditions should be honored accordingly. New or not." He patted twice and stepped back again. "I look forward to our new working relationship." He informed her, closing his eyes and tilting his head with a mischievous grin. "Afterall, the old one was fun enough. This should be completely delightful." He shooed her mildly. "Get some rest, detective." He ordered her pleasantly. "You will have a case this week. I'll write you like always."

"Ah!" She started in surprise as she found herself ushered out the door. "Conner?"

"Oh, and..." He paused in the threshold. "The shop will not be open again until Monday." He smirked. "Good night then, Mackenzie."

The bell of his shop jingled as he closed the door. This time he flipped the sign and locked up, sparing only a brief look to the confounded young lady just outside before spinning around and brandishing his duster, feeling renewed and energized. All the better. The store would need to be sparkling if he intended to let it sit for the rest of the week. He laughed, quietly, controlling the sound and tuning it. It was laughter that had given him away before, and it wouldn't do for someone to hear the familiar cackle of the Cornstalker from his shop.

Since he's promised Mackenzie that he would not be caught. And promises between rivals, well...

"They're a bit stickier than those between friends." He mused. "Does that make them stronger?"

They'd find out in due time.


End file.
